A delicate reflection on the feminine essence

This, dearest, is my greatest test to date

The gushing words I had scribbled all week in my shiny white leather bounds notebook that keeps me company, capturing all the beautiful theoretical fairy fumes the waft from my brain to permanent inked residency on the once blank page. Suddenly I was thrown, neigh catapulted into a vortex of emotion and the urge to react to this personal slur to my name and body. Interestingly, and perhaps because I had been entrust with this crown of a task, I refrained from reacting at all. I sat, as an abdicated queen thrown from the familiarity of the throne from which she has safely viewed her sovereign kingdom for so long.

I sat with the abject discomfort of not knowing what I felt, what was really the truth, from opinion, or standpoint. I sat in the confusion of not knowing whose fault it was, who was right, who was wrong, why this occurred and what was the best course of action. As it turned out, this was a positive.

What happened was I had summoned  You dearest. I had sumonned Essence. The creative power of the feminine. She, you had come to my rescue.

I learnt this as it happens from a beautiful children story called le petit prince. The little prince leaves his the planet and the rose he knows and loves and understands and travels to the strangest of places. He learned something precious on his travels. He saw it in his rose without knowing why. What is essential is invisble to the eye and so is our femininity. The feminine rising is the simple return to essence. The feminine is essence.

That which operates according to the good the beautiful and the true. It is an immediate recognition of what is real and necessary in any moment. It is all the actions that spring from this recognition. All the infinite possible action that spring from any one of the infinite moments that sparkle breathlessly into our field and sigh to the dust.

That may include climbing the rocks on the pathway to the farthest shore. That may mean being very very quiet or very very normal. Or watching a face or a whisker quivering or a flutter of a flag or the pot boiling as you cook your child or your lover eggs so so carefully that a secret err ups ad midst the mundane ordinariness, the nobody-ness. It may mean screaming. It may mean reigning it in. It may mean letting it in it may mean letting love reign. It may mean letting  go. It may mean rain and dancing in it or  decaying in it. Or mean coffee. Or rythmns and rockpools on a sunday.
It is woman, (who are witches,)  who understand the ineffable magic of essence the most. To speak of Essence is to speak of femininity itself.

Essence is pure unalloyed. I could write of the soft spectrum of grey in scattered feathers or the dappled light in the yonder woods at noon and say nothing much rational and feel I have spoken about the feminine essence.

And it’s I everywhere and happening already..unstoppable…the witches pull..and it is utterly contagious and powerfully magnetic..

Femininty and effortlessness occurs not in a vacuum but on the battlefield. in the midst of horrors and ugliness. It is silken still, beautiful still yes!..but sometimes bloodstained. It still listens to the birdsong as she does the difficult thing for the sake of beauty, truth, and goodness..because she can see what others have forgotten to see..and so she hears the song even more finely, even more sweetly. It is the gift of the godess that by doing the difficult thing, ther intensity of the repayment is divninty.

And so Dearest, So I did an unusual thing. Absolutely nothing. I Continue with my life fresh and  allowed myself understand her silently and secretly. And so, this is my love letter to her too.

And Finally, in the words of a poet:

Oh how we found the bravery to leap into what we never knew…!!..and found the once savaged world bright and new.